


Extract from the Memoirs of Jane Watson during the time period of her short story ‘A Scandal in Bohemia’, Posthumously Published

by mechanonymouse



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: F!John Watson - Freeform, F!Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Gen, M!Irene Adler, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25888213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanonymouse/pseuds/mechanonymouse
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Rule 63 Exchange 2020





	Extract from the Memoirs of Jane Watson during the time period of her short story ‘A Scandal in Bohemia’, Posthumously Published

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pendrecarc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendrecarc/gifts).



The case centred on Ian Adler was not an unusual case from its beginning but the lengths Holmes went, how she was fooled by her client despite her initial distrust, and how Adler foiled them is one she remembered often. It was to protect for Adler that his sex was changed in the original serialisation of the case and even now writing years after his death I will not reveal the true names of either Adler or his lover only say that to my and Holmes’ knowledge they lived peaceful content lives away from the machinations of the Bohemian royal family.

I was, at the time Holmes took the case, recently married and approaching building a household with my new husband, the demands of such caused me to drift from my maiden friends. I know that some researchers are convinced I have married three times but let me clarify, Holmes and I change the dates of cases to protect the identities of those involved. This was my first and only marriage and every case that occurred while I was married was during this short marriage. That will not help you identify people we have protected, for I have also left Holmes’ side to nurse at regular intervals throughout our friendship and we have always explained those absences as as occurring during my marriage.

I had heard of little of Holmes’ doings during this time. She was still the port of last resort for cases the official police had declared helpless, with the publicity still going to her male alter ego, and my male alter ego was still her ‘brother’s’ biographer. For both of our sakes the deception upon which we had entered when we first became flatmates had to continue so Holmes and I were in regular written correspondence and I made sure to visit her at least once a month in our maiden garret. Holmes was buried in her old books, alternating between cocaine and ambition, some weeks listless from the drug, others fiercely energetic. I had written up only three of the cases that she had taken for all the readers of the daily press. Those that would extend her ‘brother’s’ reputation or where she wished to give the persons involved a black eye, the case involving the reigning family in Holland draws to mind.

One night - it was I believe I wrote the 20th March 1888 for publication, but that was one of many small details that were changed to protect Mr Adler and his companion and I cannot now remember the exact date - I visited my old friend to discuss how exactly to present the case I was currently writing up for publication.

She greeted me gladly and offered me a cigar. If I had not been living with my husband I would have taken her up on the offer but my husband’s lungs were weak and I didn’t not wish my small pleasures to rob him of what little time still remained to him. He was a true friend and I do not begrudge the time spent nursing him.

Sherlock stood by the fire and inspected me as she typically did, when we first met it felt invasive and clinical but by this point in our acquaintance I recognised it as an indication of her regard for me that she was willing to waste time cataloguing every small thing I had changed since she had last seen me.

‘Wedlock suits you,’ she remarked. ‘I think, Watson, that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you. Morstan’s cook must be better than either of us or the ever indomitable Mrs Hudson.’

‘Seven!’ I protested.

‘Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I fancy, Watson.’ Holmes let the topic drop. ‘Did the country air help your husband or was the weather too inclement?’

‘He’s got a stinking cold but no serious adverse effects.’ I said. ‘How did you know?’

‘I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting yourself very wet lately and that you have the most clumsy and careless maid?’

‘Holmes,’ said I, ‘you are very lucky they have stopped hanging witches. How do you do it?’

‘Very.’ Holmes smirked. ‘It is just a matter of observation. The inside of your left boot, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is cored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped around the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Here you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you had a particularly poor maid.’

I laughed, ‘When you give your reasons the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you explain your process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours.’

‘Quite so,’ she said retreading our old conversation. ‘You see, but you do not observe.’

As usual she gave an example from our garret and as usual I felt homesick as I reran my memories trying to find the information she asked but as Holmes noted I did not observe.

Holmes changed the subject, ‘Since you are interested in these little problems, and since you are good enough to chronicle my trifling experiences, you may be interested in this.’ She threw over a sheet of thick pink-tinted notepaper which had been lying on the occasional table. ‘It came last post. Read it out loud.’

It was an undated note with no signature or address. Not uncommon for Sherlock’s cases. She was often engaged by people who did not wish to be connected to her, to admit that they had problems that required a private detective or if they were aware that Sherlock was a woman before they sought her out to admit they needed the services of a woman.

‘There with call upon you tonight, at a quarter to eight o’clock,’ it said, ‘a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are the one who may be safely trusted with matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated. This account of you we have from all quarters received. Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask.’

‘This is indeed a mystery,’ I remarked. ‘What do you imagine that it means?’

‘I have no data yet and I’m not sure I am interested in getting data to be able to create theories.’ she said. ‘If I had not had an appointment with you I would have gone out. But the note itself. What do you deduce from it?’

I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was written.

‘The person who wrote it was presumably well to do,’ I remarked, endeavouring to imitate my companion’s processes. ‘Such paper could not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and stiff.’

‘Peculiar - that is the very word.’ Holmes said. ‘It is not English paper at all. Hold it up to the light.’

I did so, and saw a large ‘E’ with a small ‘g’, a ‘P’, and a large ‘G’ with a small ’t’ woven into the texture of the paper.

‘What do you make of that?’ asked Holmes.

‘The name of the maker,’ I suggested, ‘or rather his monogram.’

‘Not at all.’ she explained that Gesellschaft was German for company and ‘P’ was for Papier. ‘Now for the ‘Eg.’ Let us glance at our Continental Gazetteer.’ she took down a heavy brown volume. ‘Eglow, Eglonitz - here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speaking country - in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. “Remarkable as being the scene of the death of Wallenstein. and for its numerous glass-factories and paper-mills.” What do you make of that Watson?’

‘The paper was made in Bohemia.’ I said. ‘So the person who wrote this note was well off and from Bohemia or has spent time there.’

‘Precisely. And the person who wrote this note is a German speaker, either a native speaker or one who uses German more often than English.’ Holmes pointed at the last sentence ‘“This account of you we have from all quarters received.” ‘Notice the position of the verb. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts.’

From outside the window there was a sharp sound of horses hooves and grating wheels against the curb followed by the bell being pulled hard.

‘A pair, by the sound.’ she said and went to the window to peak outside. ‘A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There’s money in this case, Watson, if nothing else.’

‘I’ll go out the back.’ I said, aware Holmes needed a paying case. The last several cases Holmes had taken, of which I will never write, were moral but not paying and Mrs Hudson was only so forgiving about the rent.

‘Stay, Jane. I am lost without my Boswell. And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it.’ Holmes said with a turn of phrase that she always used to indicate she wished me to take notes for potential publication.

‘But your client -‘ I protested, thinking of my husband alone at home.

‘Never mind him.’ Holmes said, ‘I may want your help and I will not keep you over long.’ she stopped and listen to the stairs, ‘And so may he. Here he comes. Sit down in that armchair and give us your best bustling nurse.’

The client walked with a slow and heavy step, which even I could recognise as indicative of difficulty. He paused long in front of Holmes’ door before there was loud and authoritative tap, whether to recover himself or in hopes of hearing if Holmes had a companion I cannot say.

‘Come in!’ Holmes called, in the same voice she used when she was passing as a man.

The door swung open to reveal a tall man, no taller than Holmes or her brother but thickly muscled with it where Sherlock and Mycroft tended towards lean no matter how active or gluttonous they were. He was richly dressed to the point of bad taste, I hoped that the street boys Holmes employed had relieved him of some of his wealth in passing. He was wearing a mask that covered his eyes and brows but left his lower face exposed and had taken off his hat. I noticed Holmes taking note of the appearance he had poorly disguised while he took stock of the women in front of him. Holmes’ client did not seem to be surprised but rather disappointed. After a moment he recovered himself.

‘You had my note?’ he asked in a harsh, heavily accented voice. ‘I told you I would call.’

As Holmes had requested, I did my best bustling matron impression asking after our guest’s health and providing him with a medicinal, and hopefully tongue loosening, shot of Holmes’ strongest liquor.

‘My friend and colleague, Mrs Jane Morstan.’ Holmes introduced me once our guest was seated and had slung back his first glass. ‘Whom have I the honour to address?’

‘You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I would much prefer to communicate with you alone. I would rather not trust two women to my employer’s confidence.’

I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back into my chair. ‘It is both or none.’ Holmes scoffed, ‘Anything that you share with me will be shared with Jane whether she is here or not. She is my trusted confidant.’

The Count tried to stare Holmes down but she sat impassively looking bored. Finally he shrugged. ‘Then I must begin by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the end of that time the matter will be of no importance. At present it is too much to say that it is of such weight it may have an influence upon European history.’

‘I promise,’ said Holmes, fully aware of how little a verbal contract meant.

‘And I,’ I said at Holmes’ nod.

‘You will excuse this mask,’ our strange visitor continued. The left corner Holmes’ lips turned up in a minuscule smile.‘The august person who employs me wishes his agent be unknown to you, and I may confess at once that the title by which I have just called myself is not exactly my own.’

‘I am aware of it.’ said Holmes.

‘The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to be taken to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal and seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To speak plainly, the matter implicates the great House of Ormstein, hereditary kings of Bohemia.’

Our guest threw back his second glass in one great movement. Holmes’ eyes had drifted closed as our guest spoke, her mind working through the problem being presented to her. ‘I was also aware of that,’ she murmured.

Our visitor stared at her. She was leant back in her chair limbs relaxed and eyes closed, she looked like she was about to take a nap but as one who knew her well I could see the twitches of her eye lids and stirring of her skirt as her fingers moved. She was deep in thought. The client silently stared at her until Holmes open her eyes and looked impatiently up at him.

‘If your Majesty would condescend to state your case,’ she remarked in a surprisingly mild tone of voice, ‘I should better be able to advise you.’

The man sprang from his chair and paced up and down the room in uncontrollable agitation. His footsteps were heavy and uneven and he placed his cane with a loud track with every stride. Holmes’ rooms were not over large and cluttered so he was forced to turn with every third stride and each turn was more wild. As he began his third round he tore the pointless mask from his face and hurled it to the ground. ‘You are right,’ he cried; ‘I am the king. Why should I attempt to conceal it?’

‘Why, indeed?’ murmured Holmes. ‘Your Majesty had not spoken before I was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstien, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstien, and hereditary King of Bohemia.’

‘But you understand,’ our visitor said, sitting down again. I bustled over and refilled his glass. ‘you can understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in my own person. Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not confide it to an agent without putting myself in his power. I have come incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting you.’

‘Then,’ Sherlock resettled herself in her chair and her eyes drifted back closed, ‘pray consult.’

‘The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy visit to Warsaw, I made acquaintance of the well-known adventuress, Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you.’

‘Kindly look her up in my index, Jane.’ Holmes asked me without moving. Holmes kept an extensive archive of newspaper articles, hand copied extracts from books and observances personal and reported of it felt to me everyone who mattered in this world and many who didn’t. It was difficult for anyone to name a person whom Sherlock could not at once furnish information. Opening her files, I found Adler’s biography between a rabbi and a Bristol panhandler.

‘Let me see.’ She held out her hand imperiously, but didn’t turn towards me nor open her eyes until the pages were in front of her. ‘Born in New Jersey in the year of 1858. Contralto- La Scala.’ Holmes said as she flicked through the pages summarising the information contained. I took a new piece of paper and quickly jotted down her summary to attach to the sheaf before refiling it. ‘Prima donna Imperial Opera Warsaw- Retired from operatic stage- Living in London.’ Holmes thrust the pages out in my direction. ‘As I understand, your Majesty, became entangled with this young person, wrote her some compromising letters, and is now desirous of getting those letters back.’

‘Precisely so. But How-‘

‘Was there a secret marriage?’ Holmes was looking at our visitor now. Her full intensity focused on the man.

‘None.’

‘No legal papers or certificates?’

‘None.’ The man was paling under her scrutiny and beginning to sweat.

‘Then I fail to follow your Majesty.’ Holmes scowled. ‘If this young person should produce her letter for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to prove their authenticity?’

‘There is the writing.’

‘Forgery.’ Holmes said.

‘My private note-paper.’

‘Stolen.’ Holmes looked like she wanted to roll her eyes, ‘from you or the manufacturer or faked.’

‘My own seal.’

‘Imitated.’ Holmes was obviously losing patience with our guest. A man in his position should have been fully aware that all these were possible to fake and in a situation where his bride and her family wished to believe him could be decided to be so whether there was any proof that they had been.

‘My photograph.’

‘Bought.’

‘We were both in the photograph.’ Finally we reached harder to ignore blackmail material. A good forger could knit together two photographs but it would have to be a very good forger.

‘Oh dear.’ Holmes said the corner of her mouth turning up into a smirk. ‘That is very bad. Your Majesty has indeed committed an indiscretion.’ Her voice held an edge of pleasure now that she had finally drawn the meat of her new client’s conundrum out of him.

‘I was mad- insane.’

‘You have compromised yourself seriously.’ Holmes drove the point in, an air of a cat playing with a bird that it knew could not escape about her.

‘I was only Crown Prince then.’ The man excused himself. ‘I was young. I am but thirty now.’

‘It must be recovered.’ Holmes said, and the corner of her mouth turned up more as he squirmed.

‘We have tried and failed.’

‘Your Majesty must pay.’ said Holmes, knowing full well that he would have tried already before seeking her out.

‘She will not sell.’

‘Stolen, then.’

‘Five attempts had been made.’ That was a surprise, my guess had been that he had given up when threats and money failed and turned to Sherlock. ‘Twice burglars in my pay have ransacked her house. once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice she had been waylaid. There had been no result.’

‘No sign of it?’

‘Absolutely none.’

Holmes laughed. It was a bright cheerful thing and I could see her absorbed with the pleasure and stimulation of the game. I didn’t glory in the idea of someone being blackmailed but it was always a pleasure to see Holmes at her best and she was at her best when she had a problem to solve. ‘It is a pretty little problem,’ she said.

‘But a very serious one for me.’ The King’s tone was reproachful and obviously expected an apology.

A smile played on Holmes’ face. ‘Very, indeed,’ she said. ‘And what does Miss Adler propose to do with the photograph?’

‘To ruin me.’ This King seemed keen on melodrama and short on detail.

‘But how?’ the smile faded from Holmes’ face at once more having to draw the problem from him.

‘I am about to be married.’

‘So I have heard.’

‘To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the King of Scandinavia. You may know of the strict principles of her family. She is herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my conduct would bring the matter to an end.’

‘And Irene Adler?’

‘Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. She has the face of the beautiful of women, and the mind of the most resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another woman there are no lengths to which she would not go - none’

‘You are sure that she has not sent it yet?’

‘I am sure.’

‘And why?’

‘Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday.’

‘Then we have three days yet.’ Holmes yawned. ‘That is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into just at present. Your majesty will, of course, stay in London for the present?’

‘Certainly.’ He gave his hotel and the name he had registered under. From the tone of Holmes’ response it was a very poor disguise.

They discussed money and then the King took his leave. When the royal brougham was rolling down the street, Holmes said. ‘Goodnight, Watson. If you will be good enough to call tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock. I should like to chat this little matter over with you.’ She turned aside to look out the window her pipe in hand. ‘Give your husband my best wishes for his health.’

* * *

I did not arrive at three o’clock precisely but rather later, having sent a note to Holmes early in the morning that I would not be able to leave until our cook had returned from her day off and could assist my husband with any of his needs, our maid having been thrown from the house by the same cook late yesterday evening. Holmes herself was not yet back, her landlady informed me as I redressed the burn on her arm that Sherlock had left the house shortly after eight o’clock in the morning. Nor did I sit idly at the fire, habit made me bustle around Holmes’ rooms making them less of a fire hazard and returning to Mrs Hudson her dishes that Holmes had buried under her explosion of energy after the King had left. Nor was I concerned that Holmes would fail to understand the case but whether Holmes would fail as her client was concerned. What Holmes felt to be a fair solution to the case has always to me felt morally right and full of deep empathy for all involved, even when there is no single victim and villain but multiple people of good intentions in difficult positions, but it has not always the solution that pleased her paying client. This leads to uncertainty in her finances, the same uncertainty that has forced me to take live in nursing jobs over the years.

At close to four, when I had just finished tidying, a drunken-looking groom reeled down the street, and entered 221 Baker Street, his gait changing to firm and confident as the door closed behind him and he began ascending the stairs. This person was ill-kempt and whiskered, with an inflamed face disguising Holmes’ delicate bone structure and disreputable clothes. She passed me by without acknowledgement and vanished into her bedroom. About five minutes later she reemerged in her normal garb, stretched out on her favourite chair in front of the fire and laughed, a tinkling sound of deep pleasure that overwhelmed her.

I left her to it and headed downstairs to collect a tea set from Mrs Hudson. When I returned she had recovered herself. ‘Were your observations of Miss Adler’s home successful’ I asked as I played mother.

‘Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, however. I left the house a little after eight, having already received your note, in the character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy and freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them and you will know all that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a bijou villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in front right up to the road, two stories. Chubb lock to the door;’ as was my habit I noted Holmes’ speech both for her later use and for a future serialisation if Holmes’ decided that case was suitable. ‘Large sitting-room on the right side, well furnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and those preposterous English window fasteners which a child could open. Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window could be reached from the top of the coach-house. I walked round it and examined it close from every point of view, but without noting anything else of interest.

‘I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that there was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent the oastlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received in exchange twopence, a glass half-and-half, two fills of shag tobacco, and as much information as I could desire about Miss Adler, or rather as these gentlemen know her Mr Adler, to say nothing of half a dozen other people in the neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was compelled to listen to. I shall too, compel you to listen to before I answer your questions my dear Watson.’

I sighed and set aside my notes on the Adler case to hear Holmes’ summaries of the residents of Serpentine Avenue, she was never one to turn down or forget what could be useful information so this pattern of recitation was a familiar one to us and one I knew better than to try an interrupt now matter how many questions Adler’s choice to present as a man here in London raised. When Holmes’ had finished and I had filed the new biographies away, I asked, ‘And what of Irene Adler?’

‘Ian Adler to these men.’ Holmes said. ‘He is fair and boyish in his face and lean of body. Polite and tips well. Is not prone to anger nor excess drink. A fit man who will lend a hand to any in need, whether they are a judge or a scullery maid. A good employer, fair and willing to listen to his servants when they are more knowledgeable than he. So say the Serpentine Mews, to a man. He lives quietly, drives out at five everyday and returns at seven sharp for his dinner. Seldom goes out at other times. They were not aware that Irene Adler existed or if they were they did not connect Ian Adler to her.Has only one frequent visitor, a man, and a good deal of him. He is dark, handsome and dashing, never calls less than once a day, and often twice. They commonly dine together. He is a Mr Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the advantages of a cabman as confidant. They had driven him home a dozen times from Serpentine Mews, often late in the evening, and knew all about him. When I had listened to all they had to tell, I began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge one more, and to think over my plan of campaign.

‘The important factors are these. Firstly, in London Adler has always been Ian even during her relationship with the King and her presence in London has gradually increased over the years. At no point did the King mention this, but he must have known if he has paid for her house to be burgled five times before consulting me. What does this change? A woman who wishes to live as a man is not likely to wish to be a Queen so what does Adler get out of ruining the King’s engagement. The problem to engage with is different if she is a scorned woman, jealous of the one chosen instead of her or if her motivation is something different. Secondly, Godfrey Norton. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between them, and what was the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client, his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was less likely. On the issue of this question depended whether I should continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the gentleman’s chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate point, and it widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you are to understand the situation.’

‘I am following you closely.’ I answered showing her my notes.

‘I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drew up to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably handsome man. dark, aquiline and moustached - evidently the man of whom I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted at the cabman to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened the door with the air of a man who was thoroughly at home.

‘He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of him in the sitting room, pacing up and down, talking excitedly and waving his arms. Of Adler I could see nothing. Presently he emerged looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped up to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it earnestly, “Drive like the devil,” he shouted, “first to Gross & Hankey’s in Regent Street and then to the Church of St Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guniea if you do it in twenty minutes.”

‘Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, the coachman with his coat only half buttoned, and his tie under his ear, while all the tags of his harness were sticking out of the buckles. It hadn’t fully pulled to a stop when a fair, pink cheeked, young man looking no older than twenty shot out the hall door and jumped in. She truly makes a lovely man, I’ve seen none so fair nor so handsome.

‘“The Church of St Monica, John,” the lad cried, “and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.”

‘It was clear what was about but it reshuffled all of my thoughts about this case. I was balancing wether I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her landau when the cab came through the street.

‘Even with a convincing fare I was last to the church. The fourth person in the church that midday. Adler - her breaches swapped for a skirt but nothing else about her changed, Norton and the clergyman were arguing in a knot in front of the altar. I longed up the side isle like any other idler who has dropped into a church. Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round to me, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards me.

‘“Thank God,’ he cried. “You’ll do. Come! Come!”

‘“What then?” I asked

‘“Come, man, come, only three minutes or it won’t be legal.”

‘I was half dragged up to the the altar, and before I knew where I was I found myself mumbling response which were whispered in my ear, and vouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally assisting in the secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to Godfrey Norton, bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and there was the gentleman thanking me on one side and the lady on the other despite her red ringed eyes, while the clergyman beamed on me in front. It was the most preposterous position in which I have ever found myself in my life, and it was the thought of it that started me laughing just now. To marry would not I feel from my observations have been Miss Adler’s choice had our visitor not been so obvious about his presence in London and that it was a plan of last resort lead to some irregularity in their licence. The clergyman refused to marry them without a witness of some sort and my lucky appearance saved the bridegroom from having to sally out into the streets in search of a best man.’

‘This is a very unexpected turn of affairs,’ said I , understanding this was a point where Holmes felt comfortable in her recitation of events being interrupted and my conversation drawing further impressions from her rather than needing to get the precise events and mannerisms clearly recorded for later analysis. ‘What then?’

‘I though they might immediately leave London together but instead they separated, her for the house, and quick removal of her sole concession to womanhood, and he driving back to the Temple. This further confirms my thought that they were forced into this action by our visitor’s arrival and have not wrapped up their plans. And I left to make my own arrangements.’

‘Which are?’ I asked serving up the simple meal Mrs Hudson had provided with the tea set now that she had finished properly.

‘Some cold beef and this tea,’ she answered. ‘I have been too busy to think of food and I imagine the same is true of you, Watson, and both of us are likelier to be busier still this evening. You with your husband and I with our visitor. I have arranged for one of the Irregulars to observe Miss Adler but I expect him to see nothing of interest. She has acted and that act was one of protection against her better instincts. No, the more interesting question is what, other than engaging me, has our visitor been up to in London to so spook his prey.’

‘Why his prey?’ I questioned. ‘In his account she is his blackmailer.’

‘And yet he offers no proof of blackmail to us and Miss Adler’s actions are not those of a woman scorned.’ Sherlock said leaning back in her chair. ‘A woman scorned does not react to a letter from the man who scorned her and scramble to marry and-‘ she broke off as the door bell rang.

A small grubby boy was soon knocking on Holmes’s door. He took the sandwich I quickly constructed and the penny for his time from Holmes and left a note confirming Holmes’s suspicion. ‘Read it.’ She said, her eyes drifting closed.

‘Dearest Sister,’ I began.

‘Skip the pleasantries.’

‘The King sent three missives after his visit to your lodgings; the first was intercepted but of no interest to you, the second to an arranger, his details are enclosed, and the third to Miss Irene Adler, Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St John’s Wood. Be politic little sister in your dealings with the King. Matters on the continent are delicate and Britain does not wish a war.’ I handed Holmes the details of the arranger the King had contacted.

Holmes nodded to herself. ‘And the King after engaging my services wrote to Adler. What Watson would you suppose-‘ she cut herself of. ‘Ah. that is supposition not evidence, no. Having enjoyed our repast it is time for both of us to return to work. Wait on me?’ She asked rhetorically as she stood to enter her bedroom.

After a short time she emerged dressed as a middle aged maid. ‘I doubt,’ she said, ‘that Adler has used the photograph as blackmail and expect my Irregular will note no difference in her behaviour from what the ostlers have observed. Rather I suspect it was a guarantee of good behaviour from our client. Proof of that I hope to obtain this evening. You will call on me tomorrow evening, Watson, and we will finish this?’

I nodded. ‘I don’t know when I will be free. I will send you a note.’

* * *

I returned to Baker Street late the next day to see a tired looking man attempting to make delivery of a large box to Mrs Hudson. ‘He says it’s for your Mr Holmes.’ She told me and having relinquished the problem to me returned inside.

Thankfully, I hadn’t returned my keys for the rooms I had shared with Holmes when I moved out so I could allow the man to make delivery. The seventeen steps to 221B Baker Street are steep and narrow, a positive when Holmes has angered someone in the course of her investigations but not when a delivery of this size is being made. The man huffed and puffed his way up the stairs, early dropping his burden serval times, I hoped it was not laboratory equipment as glass tinkled inside the box. Once upstairs he placed it on the first clean piece of floor and turned tail, I suppose having heard the same indications that what he had delivered had not arrived in one piece as I. It wasn’t heavy but awkward, and Holmes’ living room was never the tidiest or largest of places but since I had moved out her experiments had spread from her bedroom to the cover most of the flat. Manoeuvring around it, I settled myself to wait, having found my note to Sherlock tucked under the door so it was unlikely she had returned since we left yesterday evening.

Two hours after I had arrived, when I was just debating leaving my apologies and returning to my sick husband, Holmes arrived fuming.

‘I am the damnest idiot,’ she said. ‘I trusted my impressions of an actress. There is no one faultless in this entire endeavour.’ She kicked the box in her way, sending more glass tinkling through the glass.

‘I do hope that wasn’t expensive glassware, Holmes.’ said I. ‘What is the problem?’

‘Adler has flown the nest.’ Holmes slumped down in her preferred seat, ‘and sent the photo to somewhere and someone other than the king. He triggered this. He wrote of his intentions to keep her a kept woman, to force her by his side and make her watch his marriage. Knew full well that she did not wish to live as a woman nor an actress anymore and cared none for her happiness for all he proclaims to love her, and every other woman he thinks he might be able to bed. He is not discrete, prone to pillow talk, and has made free, whether willing or not, with all the pretty maids who have served him since he arrived in London but he is my client-’ Holmes broke off to swear and scrub her eyes. ‘Politics,’ she said like a curse, ‘it would be poor not just for him for his engagement to be broken off. I must find that photograph and Adler if it is required.’

‘What can I do to help?’

‘Not a damned, thing.’ Holmes said. ‘I believe Adler has left for the West Country estate of Godfrey Norton and with her any witness as to where the cabinet has been sent. Mycroft is making sure it does not arrive to the Scandinavia Court but i must away and track it at home. I will contact you when I return.’ Holmes pressed a kiss to my cheek and entered her bedroom. I left her to her pack.

It took a week for Holmes to return to London and I saw her first not at her request at Baker Street but laughing in my parlour at barely six o’clock in the morning. She was leant against my fireplace, pipe in one hand laughing so hard she was crying. While she waved a greeting at me when I entered, having scared my new maid rigid to find her there, it took her several minutes to compose herself.

‘Was your trip successful?’ I asked.

‘In a manner of speaking.’ she said and bursted back into uncontrollable laughter. When she once again recovered herself she began her tale. ‘I have travelled hard the southern parts of this country, disguised myself as priest, maid, groom and highwayman in my search for Adler and her companion. I was right that they were headed to an estate but not to Norton’s and they were several days ahead of me when I discovered so. As a priest travelling from London to Shrewsbury, I pretended to have heard of Norton’s marriage to the Norton’s housekeeper as she returned from visiting her daughter. She was certain it wasn’t possible, that Norton was a confirmed bachelor and I must have either misheard or that another lawyer with the same name also practiced in London. I made myself a maid looking for service and discovered the master of the house was visiting an old school friend’s estate and made my way there.’ Holmes paused. ‘The rest of my tale of finding them is not of interest. More of the same. Cold, wet and repetitive to boot. And all useless, if I had looked in front of me. What, my dear Watson, was delivered to me?’

‘Glassware for one of your experiments?’ I guessed.

‘I took from your question that it was so and that my usual supplier had changed their delivery man but no. I was chasing a shadow round this country, made myself more people that I can remember and deceived a sweet young girl about my intentions for something that was in my flat the entire time. Adler sent the cabinet to me.’ here she dissolved back into giggles and I couldn’t get another word from her on the subject.

While I have asked many times over the years what happened while she was chasing Adler she never elaborated even when we were writing our public tale of this case just admired Adler’s nounce. To have recognised Holmes, when she served as a witness to Norton and Adler’s desperate wedding was not something Holmes had expected. The roundabout route Alder sent the cabinet to Holmes prevented her from recognising the destination while Adler was still within a day of London further complicating that matter and ensuring his marriage, unwanted though it may have been, was very legal and ensured the King had had to leave London without his prize by the time Holmes found them. The cabinet could then safely be sent by Holmes to the King after his marriage removing any reason for the King to pursue Adler any further especially when Adler no longer performed.

Whether Ian Adler was a man who had once chosen to live as a woman and no longer wished to or a woman who wished to live as man neither Holmes nor I ever knew but the case lingered with us both. To be forced by society or some outside force to live as something we were not was something I believe we had both felt, if Holmes was less strong of a personality, if the nursing corps had not opened, if, if. Either way it was a relief that Ian was a competent man who could find his own ways out of coercion and that there was a politic solution that did not demand Holmes find him again for his former lover but it was not a case either of us put behind us easily.


End file.
